Righteous Indignation

In defense of anger, sometimes.

I remember being taught in Catholic elementary school that Jesus was perfect and without sin, and then also that He flipped all those tables in the church commons and whipped the merchants to clear out the Temple. A confused criss-cross-apple-sauced 6-year-old me raised his hand to ask what the hell all that was about. That’s not sin, young Chad, that’s righteous anger.

To be perfectly honest, I’m still not down with Jesus whipping the salespeople, and don’t think I ever will be; I feel like He could’ve just yelled at ‘em or given a speech and they probably would’ve listened. That’s not the point of this article though.

Anger, in and of itself, is not bad. Even acting on anger can be harmless. You stub your toe and you get mad and you take it out on the dresser because you feel like an idiot. That’s just anger, plain and simple. It’s personal to you, didn’t harm anybody, but didn’t do any good either.

Anger, like all emotions, is a tool. Like all tools, it is useful in some instances, and stupid and ineffective in other instances. 

When I was a sophomore in college, one of my fraternity brothers took a chainsaw to a 25-foot oak tree next to our house. Fortunately, Divine Providence intervened as the tree fell. It, surely, should have ripped through the roof of the house, but instead was caught by another tree, to remain there dead and rotting in its arms, still there to this very day.

This is an example of using a very powerful tool for no good reason. Just because you have it, does not mean you should use it. Unless your anger can enact positive change, it is likely better off unused. Furthermore, the manner in which you go about expressing your anger is of paramount importance. Further furthermore, if you need a tool, anger might not be the best tool. Using a hammer to nail in a screw does, in fact, work, but using a screwdriver or drill is much smarter.

Now, let’s say you’re a lawyer in your hometown of Letcher County, Kentucky, where your whole family has always lived and your grandfather’s grandfather grew up, and large corporations from out of town are cutting your trees, gashing enormous scars in your mountainside, and strip mining the land so bare that nothing can grow there again for one hundred years. And let’s say you’re mad about it. That’s different from the personal anger of stubbing your toe. We call this righteous anger: anger stemming from a perception of injustice, unfairness or violation of a moral code.

Today’s political climate is characterized by anger. I like to avoid talking at politics at all cost, 1) because I don’t know anything, 2) because it’s what everyone talks about all the time and it’s exhausting. But give me just one minute here without getting too deep into it.

Scrolling through your Instagram stories, you will see a lot of WE CAN’T ALLOW THIS, and THIS NEEDS TO STOP. While you may agree or disagree in the event’s allowance or necessary cessation, the person posting isn’t asking you: “Can you put a stop to this?” Obviously, as one individual, for now, you can’t. They’re really asking: “Are you as mad as I am?

They are mad at the aggressors, but also, they are mad at you, and your failure to share in their rage. Nothing provides a stronger feeling of moral superiority than anger. And nothing intensifies that feeling more than sharing in your anger with others. Therefore, be wary when you feel righteous anger. Not all righteous anger is objectively morally correct; you can feel righteous anger as long as you believe your cause to be righteous.

Have you ever been to a football game, and they show a replay on the big screen, and your team’s receiver clearly didn’t get both feet in bounds, but the whole crowd boos and curses the refs anyway? This is righteous anger, (the refs are out to get us) but it’s unjust, because the refs made the correct call. Nonetheless, tens of thousands of boos still echo, with the thought process being: The refs are dumb. We are smart, because we are louder and there are more of us.

In the first season of The Sopranos, high-schooler Meadow Soprano tells her father Tony that her soccer coach had sex with an underage teammate. Tony - mob boss, family man, and psychopathic killer - is obviously enraged, as any father would be, and extensively contemplates taking matters into his own hands to dispose of the coach.

Episode 9 ends with the coach’s arrest and, later that night, a drunken Tony stumbling through his living room in a gleeful stupor. Knocking over furniture with childlike giddiness, this usually miserable man, in the throes of ongoing arguments with his wife, lovingly pulls her in to excitedly tell her: “I didn’t hurt nobody.” One of his most joyous moments in the entire series comes from the celebration that he did not act upon his anger.

The grand majority of men, especially fathers, would agree Tony is justifiable in his outrage. I happen to agree with Tony’s fury. But Tony doesn’t just want to solve the problem of this coach being around young girls. He wants revenge, and Tony, personally, wants the satisfaction of causing the coach the suffering and pain that he has caused.

If you are stricken with righteous anger, and you are going to fight, make sure that you are fighting a just war, the right way, and for the right reasons. You will be engaged in some sort of fight, sometime in your life. You will voluntarily assign yourself a leadership role in a battle of some form. You will have to know, with full certainty, that you are making the right decision, and going about it the right way.

And we just can’t afford to sit back and watch all that (land) be destroyed so a few people can get rich now. One of these days the dear old federal government is going to have to come in and spend billions of dollars just to repair the damage that’s already been done. And guess who will have the machines and the workmen to do the job? The same coal operators who made the mess in the first place will be hired to fix it back, and the taxpayers will bear the cost.

Harry Caudill

The Kentucky lawyer described above was named Harry Caudill. He dedicated his life to fighting a solitary war against the government and coal mining companies, inspired by the anger they caused him. He believed the companies were taking advantage of his inarticulate and uneducated neighbors, so he spoke on their behalf and vehemently campaigned in protest against northeastern corporations’ ability to profit off his home and its people. I happen to believe he fought a just war.

Our heroes are those who fought just wars. Injustice troubled them, and their anger motivated them to do something about it. Our best men are those who control their anger, and channel it to enact positive change in the world. You will get angry, one million more times in your life after reading this. Don’t abuse that power.

I would be much better off personally to leave the area. I could earn much more money in other parts of Kentucky, for example, as an attorney. But I have a duty that keeps me here, and probably will keep me here for many years yet to come.

Harry Caudill, 1965

Reply

or to participate.